Shouldn’t you be asleep in your bed? 
Safe from the monsters, 
that live in your head.

The fireplace cackled and glowed brightly. The man who held my mother was staring at it. He quickly spun around when he heard my scream.

He was much taller than anyone I had ever met. His hair was pitch-black. The features on his face were sharp; sharp nose, sharp looking eyes, sharp ears, all accented by the light of the fire. His eyes gleamed, a cold yellow glow.

He might have been considered nice to look at. But to me he was nothing but a monster.

My heart fell. My feet shook. I screamed at him more.

“What!? What, what are you doing?” I fumbled with my words, nearly biting my tongue as I tried to yell at him. I was scared, I was furious, I was confused.

It was all my fault, it was all his fault. Who was he to take my mother? Was he with the Night King? He must be. Why mother? Why me? Why?

 Give her back!” I yelled fiercely at him. “Don’t touch her! Let her go!” I ran to him and battered my hands against his side. Trying not to hit my mother in the process.

“Return her to me!” I screamed between hits.

He looked down at me, a puzzled expression on his face as I attacked him as hard as I could. He was not fazed by my punches.

“Give her back! Give mother back! Let her go! Give my mother back!” I shouted and rammed at him with my fists again and again.

He did not move. He looked at me quizzically, like I was some kind of insect or small animal that he had never seen before. He made a move to say something, but changed his mind and kept quiet. 

He did not talk, not a single word. He just stared, taking in blow after blow.

After a little while I grew exhausted. I do not know how long I had been hitting him. It probably was not long; I had run all the way here and was tired to begin with.

My hits turned softer and softer. I began to cry. My voice became hoarse from screaming.

“Please, please, let her go, please leave, don’t take her away. Give her back.”

My heart was heavy with the knowledge that my pleas were getting nowhere.

He would take her. He would take her to his king. She would go to the castle and I would never see her again.

“Please, please, don’t. Don’t take her, you can’t” I cried, my voice breaking with the strain. I pleaded again and again. The man remained stoic. Unphased by my cries.

Then he began to move towards the door.

Gathering what energy I had left, I screeched and began clawing at him, using every ounce of my strength to drag him backward. To make him return. To make him stop. To make him slow down. But he continued towards the door, undisturbed.

When we were almost at the door, I heard the thundering sound of hooves.

I heard the sound of someone dismounting their horse, and the sound of heavy footsteps.

Then the Night King was at my door.